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Featured Book ~ Girls Rule, Boys Drool by Lucy Felthouse

Girls Rule, Boys Drool by Lucy Felthouse

Blurb:

Three lesbian erotic short stories from popular writer Lucy Felthouse.

Girls Rule, Boys Drool

Boyish dyke Toni is working at the local golf club, serving champagne to arrogant, privileged folk when she spots Clarissa. She’s one of the posh people, but she looks like she’d rather be somewhere else—anywhere else. Toni’s immediately smitten and wants to put a smile on the older woman’s beautiful face, so she decides to show Clarissa just why girls rule and boys drool.

Making An Impression

Joely’s holiday has consisted mainly of chilling out by the hotel pool, having the occasional swim and reading lots. That is, until a hot brunette arrives and suddenly, Joely has trouble concentrating on anything else. Her gaydar non-existent, Joely decides on an unusual course of action to find out whether the newcomer bats for the same side as her.

Fear as an Aphrodisiac

Girlfriends Nikki and Sonya are on holiday in Edinburgh, Scotland’s capital city. They’re having fun sightseeing, until a super-scary tourist attraction sends Nikki into meltdown. Once outside again, Nikki slowly starts to feel better—and, much to her surprise, horny. Quickly realising that the fear has acted as a potent aphrodisiac, she decides to take advantage of that fact, right there in the middle of the city.

Available from:

Amazon    Amazon UK    All Romance

Coming soon to all other good eBook retailers.

Add to Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19230294-girls-rule-boys-drool

Excerpt:

Finally, Nikki and Sonya found the turning off Edinburgh’s Royal Mile that they needed. They’d expected a road, but Mary King’s Close was nothing more than a narrow passageway that looked like it led to the next street along. Glancing at one another, it seemed both girls suspected they were in the wrong place—despite the name of the alleyway—but as they headed along the close, they came across more signage and discovered they were wrong. The signs proclaimed that they were indeed at The Real Mary King’s Close, and this time they exchanged a relieved look and moved inside the tourist attraction.

After paying their money, they were put into a group that was already waiting, and after a few minutes was called to attention by a member of staff. The young man, dressed in incredibly old-fashioned attire welcomed them to the attraction and gave some brief information about what they should expect from the tour, as well as some health and safety spiel.

Then they were ushered deeper into the building and down some stairs. Another peculiarly-dressed actor met them and gave his talk. The group soon learned that Mary King’s Close had been a town of sorts, a collection of streets and houses, named after the most prominent local—Mary King. It had functioned well, this part of Edinburgh—in its day. But it had also befallen hard times and tragedy, including the Black Death. It was rumoured that people affected had been bricked into their houses to prevent the disease spreading further. It had never been confirmed nor denied, but the very idea sent a shiver down Nikki’s spine.

As they advanced into the underground town—now covered over by modern Edinburgh—they learned more about the inhabitants, their lives and, in some cases, their deaths. By the time they were shown the shrine of a young girl, covered with offerings both old and new, Nikki was clinging onto Sonya’s arm so hard that the other girl gave her a nudge.

“Oi, you’re hurting me! What’s the matter with you?”

“Sorry,” Nikki replied. “I’m getting a little creeped out, that’s all.”

“A little? The way you’re squeezing my arm, I’m beginning to think you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

“I said I’m sorry. God. Don’t you think it’s spooky down here?”

A meaningful glance from the tour guide shut them up. Nikki dropped her hand to Sonya’s and held it. The group continued through the subterranean labyrinth, listening to more tales of the past, the things that had happened within the very place they stood, over four hundred years ago.

Some periods of total darkness with recounts of history later, and Nikki was a nervous wreck. She’d always had an overactive imagination, and although she’d never seen a ghost—despite Sonya’s words—she believed in them and was really succumbing to the eeriness of the ancient place. She had gotten to the stage where she fully expected to see the spectre of little Annie—having left the site of her shrine—peering around a corner, beckoning to her. Or the chilly finger of a plague victim trailing down the back of her neck. She grew so paralyzed with fear that she fell silent and didn’t take in a word of the rest of the excursion—simply holding onto Sonya’s hand as they walked through the rooms and tunnels.

When they eventually emerged into the outside world once more, Nikki heaved a sigh of relief. “Sonya, darling, take me for a drink, now. A stiff one. A double vodka and coke sounds perfect right now. Maybe even a triple.”

“Were you really that scared?” The other woman looked disbelieving.

“What do you mean, were? I still bloody am. I’m sure I’d have found it interesting if I wasn’t so busy being terrified. I’m surprised I didn’t wet myself.”

“Aww, babe.” Sonya pulled the other girl into her arms. “I didn’t realise you hated it that much. We could have left if I’d known.”

“No,” Nikki shook her head. “It’s okay, I didn’t want to ruin it for you. I just got to the stage where I blocked it all out. But I’d still really like a drink, if you don’t mind.”

Sonya gently pushed Nikki against the wall of the alleyway and hugged her once more. “Okay, we’ll go for a drink soon. Let me hold you for a few minutes, first.”

The other girl said nothing, just relaxed into her lover’s embrace and slowly, very slowly, felt the fear ebbing away. With not a small amount of horror, she realised that she was turned on. Her knickers were damp and sticking to her, and the heat emanating from between her legs was unmistakable. What the actual fuck? She kept quiet, instead nuzzling into Sonya’s neck and pressing a kiss to the delicate skin there.

“Ooh,” Sonya said, shuddering, “that was lovely. What was that for?”

“For being nice.” Nikki’s voice was muffled, and she kissed her girlfriend again.

“Hey,” Sonya said, grabbing Nikki’s hands and squeezing them, “you’d better stop that, otherwise I’m going to get turned on. And that’s the last thing you want right now. I’m trying to be understanding here, sweetheart.”

Nikki came to the conclusion that she didn’t mind if Sonya got turned on, not at all. In fact, some sexy fun might just take her mind off the creepy underground place they’d just visited. It was damn weird that being scared had turned her on, but the more she thought about it, the more she figured it kinda made sense. Nothing, in her opinion, was scarier than death, and the French word for orgasm translated to ‘the little death’—so it was widely accepted that sex and death were connected. Sex was about life, death was about, well, death. So, in an attempt to stop thinking about things that confused the hell out of her, she was going to embrace life, wholeheartedly. And if that meant experiencing the little death, then so be it.

“I don’t mind,” she whispered into Sonya’s ear.

“What do you mean, sweetie?” Sonya replied, grabbing her shoulders and moving her back so she could look at her face. “You don’t mind what?”

“I don’t mind you getting turned on.”

*****

Author bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over eighty publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

 

If you like it sizzling hot…

…check out this EXCERPT just posted at a Sex Toy Review site in the UK! Nymphomanic Ness is an official reviewer of sex toys. She went looking for erotic excerpts featuring toys, and we answered the call with a scene involving three women and a double dong, fresh from our newest release, Triple Play.

We love to write scenes with toys (heck, we love toys, plain and simple), so we’ve got lots more we’ll be sending her.

What are your favorite toys? Maybe we’ll write one into a new scene for you!

 

Love It or Leave It

Today we’re thrilled to welcome our friend, Beth Wylde, as part of the blog tour for D. l. King’s new anthology, The Harder She Comes. Take it away, Beth!

Love It or Leave It

(The joys of writing erotica)

Beth Wylde

www.bethwylde.com

Hi. My name is Beth Wylde and I write lesbian erotica! My stories feature graphic sexual descriptions between consenting adults of various kinks, colors, genders and orientations.

There, I said it. I meant it, too.

Now that may sound like the introduction for a twelve step program but I can promise you it isn’t intended to be. Group meetings are for people who want to give their habit up. I’m just fine with what I do. I’m not ashamed of what I like and I’m not doing it for fame or fortune. (If I was, I definitely wouldn’t be writing GLBT erotica. I’d have picked something a lot more mainstream. LOL)

If writing smut is an addiction, I’m definitely not looking for a cure. I’m proud to be an author of kinky, naughty, graphic, girl on girl sex. When writing legitimate sex scenes between consenting adults becomes a crime I’ll gladly bend over and assume the position. Someone remember the handcuffs please!

When I first got the acceptance for my story, Born to Ride, in DL King’s The Harder She Comes anthology, I let loose with a shout so loud I’m sure people in foreign countries heard me.

I’d been trying to get a story in a Cleis antho for quite some time, but what I was writing just wasn’t clicking with the calls or the editors. My rejection emails were pleasant, telling me the stories I sent in were well written and extremely HOT, but they just didn’t fit in with the other submissions. I knew what the problem was but I had no clue how to fix it.

I was trying to mold my stories to fit the submission calls instead of writing a story from the heart. I write erotica because I enjoy it. I put a piece of my heart and soul into every tale I type. There’s just something different that shines through when a storyline is based on something the author is passionate about instead of the essay feeling you get when you try to force out a story based on a subject you’re given. When I saw DL King’s butch/femme call I knew fate had finally shined on me. I didn’t have to tailor a story to a sub call, there was a sub call tailored to my story.

Writing about sexy femmes and hot, muscular butches getting horizontal and vertical and kinky, or any combination of the above, is something of an obsession of mine. There’s just something about a strong strapping butch showing her femme lots of love and affection that gets my juices flowing. No pun intended.

And if the butch is inclined to get a bit rough and introduce some off the wall interests too? Well that’s even better. I have a kinky streak that’s rather wide and still developing so I like exploring new territory.

That’s another fun thing I often included in my writing. Though my stories are published as fiction, and a lot of what I write comes directly from my twisted imagination, quite often my storylines originate from real life events. Readers will always find a bit of reality thrown in. I love it when everyday occurrences find a home in one of my books. It makes the characters come alive for me and I believe it makes the story better for readers too.

You can tell the difference right away between a sex scene someone is trying to force their way through and something taking place on the page that really turns the author on. I think writing about sex should get the author all hot and bothered. I wouldn’t do it if it didn’t. Writing action scenes should get you pumped up, sad stories should make you cry and good erotica should leave you wet and panting.

Lately I’ve become a bit like Pavlov’s dog. Just sitting in my computer chair and hearing the sound of my comp roaring to life can get me aroused. It makes getting into the mood to write something sexy so much easier, but it’s been hell on my budget. Computer chairs don’t seem to hold up as well as they once did. (I’ll leave those details to your imagination.)

The day I stop getting turned on is the day I stop writing erotica. Until then I’ll leave you, the reader, to guess what’s real and what isn’t.

For a peek inside my mind and my fetish with motorcycle riding butches, all you have to do is pick up a copy of The Harder She Comes.

Happy reading!

Beth

b.wylde@yahoo.com

 

You can find The Harder She Comes at: Cleis Press or Amazon or anywhere books are sold!

 

Follow the tour:

 

May 1  D. L. King  http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com/

May 2  Anna Watson  http://dlkingerotica.blogspot.com

May 3  Evan Mora  http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com/

May 4  River Light  http://sapphicplanet.com/blogtour_sapphicplanet.php

May 5  Sinclair Sexsmith  http://www.sugarbutch.net/

May 6  Crystal Barela  http://kathleenbradean.blogspot.com/

May 7  CS Clark  http://bethwylde.wordpress.com/

May 8  Valerie Alexander  http://pomofreakshow.com/

May 9  Andrea Dale   http://lulalisbon.wordpress.com/

May 10  Beth Wylde  http://adrianakraft.com/blog/

May 11  Kathleen Bradean  http://cyvarwydd.blogspot.com/

May 12  Teresa Noelle Roberts  http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/

May 13  Shanna Germain  http://lantoniou.blogspot.com/

May 14  Charlotte Dare  http://madeofwords.com/posts/

May 15  Rachel Kramer Bussel  http://lustylady.blogspot.com/

 
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